


Dream Ourselves Forward (Frozen Wind At Our Backs)

by OnMyShore



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Almost Like It's Not Even There, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Just For Today, Light Angst, Like Let's Just Pretend Infinity War Isn't Coming At All, Like super light, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 00:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17171996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnMyShore/pseuds/OnMyShore
Summary: December brings with it an unexpected bout of homesickness. Luckily, Bucky has Steve Rogers to help remedy the situation.





	Dream Ourselves Forward (Frozen Wind At Our Backs)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarcellaBianca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcellaBianca/gifts).



> A belated Christmas gift for [Marcella Bianca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcellaBianca). For Christmas, she requested Steve/Bucky schmoop, and oh boy did she get it. There's definitely an element of cheesiness to this one, but I decided to lean into it. It's the holidays and these dorks deserve a little bit of happiness. Merry Christmas, Ally!
> 
> Title taken from "Toast To The New Year" by Carbon Leaf

 

 

As far as hideouts go, Bucky would put Wakanda right at the top of the list (and he’s been on the run for quite a few years by now, so he feels like he can speak on the subject with some authority). The weather is beautiful, the technology is _incredible_ , and not one person has tried to shoot him since he arrived. Shuri, in all her teenage glory, has even found a way to remove the triggers HYDRA had planted in his brain, giving Bucky the kind of freedom he hasn’t experienced in decades.

 

It’s true that he’s an exile from his own country after the catastrophe in Vienna, branded a terrorist and a war criminal. It’s a fact that chafes at Bucky when he allows himself to think about it for more than a few minutes, so he mostly doesn’t. Still, Wakanda has given him a home when he had least expected it, and a place to heal, two things Bucky hadn’t thought he’d ever be able to experience again, and he could gladly live out the rest of his days here surrounded by green hills and open sky.

 

Bucky’s complaints are few (as they should be, he figures). For one, he can’t help wishing Steve would stick around a little bit more than he does. It’s selfish, and it’s a little bit clingy, but it’s also the truth. It’s not as if Bucky had expected him to hang around in the background the whole time he was on ice (so to speak). Steve Rogers has always been a man of action, a real leap-before-you-look kind of guy, and there’s not a version of him that exists anywhere in history that would be content to sit on his hands and wait for the action to come to him. Bucky knows this and he wouldn’t change it for all the world, because then he wouldn’t be Steve. Still, it seems like he hasn’t really slowed down at all since Bucky had woken up, coming back for days at a time before heading out on some mission or another (self-appointed, of course, because Steve is perfectly fine making up his own orders rather than waiting to get them from someone else). When he’s here, he spends most his time with Bucky, but when he’s gone Bucky feels his absence like the loss of a limb (and he would know).

 

Sometimes, Natasha accompanies Steve back for a couple of days, and her presence had made Bucky uneasy at first until she’d showed up with her vibrant red hair dyed an almost startling blonde, and Bucky had stared so unabashedly that she’d finally turned to him and said, “At least tell me if you like it, James.” He didn’t, but that wasn’t the point. Somehow, a spell had been broken, and they’d gone from an uneasy truce to a clumsy sort of friendship. Bucky liked the way she teased Steve until he rolled his eyes and pretended not to blush; lately, they’d taken to ganging up on him, and Steve pretended to hate it but Bucky could tell he was secretly pleased by the development.

 

Bucky’s second complaint is a fairly new one, and it seems so silly and minor to him that he almost doesn’t want to acknowledge it at all.

 

Back in New York, in the days before the war, Bucky had always had a particular affinity for the Christmas season. It had started when he was a child; his family had always made it a point to take a special trip into Manhattan so they could enjoy the city in all her winter finery, and Bucky had been delighted by the lights and the greenery. He shed many of his childish wonderments as he’d grown older, but the sheer joy he felt every year when the Christmas season rolled around had never gone away. After school, before the army, when he and Steve were crammed into their closet-sized apartment in Brooklyn, he’d dragged him into the city to look at the tree in Rockefeller Center, Steve grumbling the whole time until Bucky told him to shut up for ten minutes and let him enjoy himself.

 

There had been very little Christmas celebrating during the war, and none whatsoever in the years he’d been enslaved by HYDRA. By the time he’d woken up enough to be able to walk away, Christmas had been a distant memory at best. He does remember one apartment he’d been holed up in while on the run, where he’d had the presence of mind to find a small plastic tree and set it up on a table in the corner, the warm glow of the lights giving the dingy room an unexpected warmth.

 

This is the first year since he’d left Brooklyn that he’s actually in a position to be able to celebrate, but rather than feeling happy or content, the season has given him an unexpected bout of homesickness that Bucky half-wishes he could go back into cry until January second. Christmas isn’t celebrated in Wakanda, though T’Challa confirmed in a conversation they’d been having that he was familiar with the holiday and its customs; he would make accommodations for Bucky if he asked, but Bucky feels silly at just the idea of bringing it up, and so he doesn’t. Instead, he watches as December creeps by with an ever-increasing feeling of wistfulness twisting in his chest.

 

Steve is back from one of his missions, and he’s told Bucky he’ll be home for at least a week, maybe more, they’ll see how it goes. He specifically doesn’t tell Bucky he’s made a point of being back for Christmas, which doesn’t matter because Bucky can tell that’s exactly what he’s doing whether Steve wants to acknowledge it or not. He hasn’t mentioned anything about the holidays to Steve, and in typical Steve Rogers fashion, Steve has apparently decided he’s not going to bring it up unless Bucky does first. Sometimes, Steve’s careful tact makes Bucky want to punch him in the mouth.

 

They’re sitting outside on the second evening that Steve’s back, watching the twilight deepen into night, and Bucky feels restless despite the peace of the evening air. Feeling eyes on him, he turns to see Steve watching him with a small furrow of concern between his brows. His hair is getting long enough to fall across his forehead when he lets it, and he’s foregone shaving in favor of a beard that he keeps neatly trimmed, the better to hide himself when he leaves Wakanda’s borders.

 

(It’s a surprisingly effective disguise. Many people assumed, incorrectly, that Steve hadn’t actually been able to grow any facial hair after his transformation into Captain America, which Bucky thinks is ridiculous. Steve had barely been able to grow a five o’clock shadow in a week before the serum; his clean-shaven face was merely a combination of PR, army regulation, and personal preference.)

 

“How long have you been staring at me like that?”

 

“I wasn’t staring,” Steve says, though he doesn’t look away. “I was observing.”

 

Bucky huffs a laugh, looking back at the sky. “Observing what?”

 

“You.” Steve’s answer is simple. When Bucky glances back at him with raised eyebrows, he half-shrugs and adds, “You’ve seemed a little off since I’ve been back, that’s all.”

 

“Compared to what? I’ve been a little off the past few years, Stevie, I thought you’d be used to it by now.”

 

“Stop.” Steve nudges against Bucky with his shoulder; he hates when Bucky makes jokes about the years he’d spent on the run, not that Bucky can really blame him. “I mean you’ve been quiet the last couple of days. Like you’ve had something on your mind.”

 

“Who, me? What do I have to worry about here?”

 

“You tell me, Buck.” When Bucky looks away again, Steve nudges in a little closer. “Hey. Talk to me.”

 

“Nah, it’s stupid.”

 

“I bet it’s not.”

 

“It really is.”

 

“So tell me anyway.”

 

Bucky is ready to drop it, or turn it into a joke and let the topic slide away, but Steve’s voice is so stupidly earnest, his face so open, that Bucky can’t find it in himself to turn him down. Sighing, he glances up at the stars that are just starting to form above them, and says, “Alright. I was thinking about home.”

 

“Home?”

 

“Brooklyn,” Bucky clarifies. “I was thinking about Brooklyn. It’s just...it’s this time of year, you know? Just makes me wish we could go back.” Back to Brooklyn, or back in time, Bucky’s not sure which he means.

 

“I get it,” Steve tells him. Bucky snorts. “No, I do, Buck. This time of year can be tough.”

 

“What are you talking about? You used to hate all that holiday shit. You bitched for _hours_ when I made you come out with me.”

 

“I didn’t enjoy it in the same way that you did, that’s true. But I liked that you liked it.” A pause, a smirk. “Even if I did complain about it the whole time.”

 

“Yeah well, you got a funny way of showing your appreciation,” Bucky mutters, earning a chuckle from Steve. He’s pressed up against Steve’s side now, and he resists the urge to let his head drop down onto Steve’s shoulders. He feels like enough of a dope as it is. “Remember how I used to make you come out to look at the tree with me?”

 

“Do I.” Steve groans. “We had to go in every year just to see it, even though it always looked the same to me. I could never figure out your fascination with that damn tree, but you couldn’t miss it.”

 

“It’s a giant tree, Stevie, what’s not to like?” In truth, Bucky can’t remember himself what it was about the tree that brought him so much joy in the first place, he just knows that it did. He remembers, vaguely, standing in front of it as a child, and again as a young man, and he knows he must have loved it, but they don’t feel like scenes from his own life. He experiences them the same way he experiences a book he’s just finished reading; he can picture the events, but much of the emotional resonance has been lost to him, beyond this longing ache that’s settled into his gut. Admitting all this out loud, however, would give Steve that frown he gets whenever Bucky gets too candid about the things HYDRA did to his mind, the things they’d taken from him, and Bucky doesn’t like doing that to him.

 

“We could’ve gotten a tree if you wanted,” Steve is saying.

 

“Where are we going to find a Christmas tree out here?”

 

“You’re right. In a country with the most advanced technology in the world, a Christmas tree is the one thing that’s beyond their capabilities.”

 

“Jerk. I meant that it would be more trouble than it’s worth.”

 

“Worth it if it makes you happy, Buck.”

 

“You’re a sap.”

 

“So are you.”

 

+++

 

They don’t bring it up again, and Bucky figures that’s the end of it, get it out of his system and move on. That homesick feeling doesn’t quite go away, but having Steve here definitely helps, and he’s starting to feel better than he has in a while.

 

Of course, Steve always seems to have some trick or another up his sleeve, a fact that Bucky has somehow forgotten to take into account.

 

It’s the day before Christmas Eve (because of course it is), and Steve is insisting that Bucky accompany him into the Royal Palace. They mostly stay outside; Bucky prefers the huts the high walls of the Palace, easier access to the open air. Steve has never taken issue with it up to this point, so Bucky immediately know that something is up, though Steve plays dumb when he tries to get him to open up about what’s going on. Steve is tight-lipped, and he’s always been the more stubborn one between the two of them, so Bucky relents in the end and agrees to follow him inside.

 

They take an elevator to a floor high above the ground, and Bucky does his best to twitch as the doors slide shut. He has no love for confined spaces, but the ride is mercifully short as they step out into the glass-walled corridor where guests are housed. Bucky can see the capitol below them, and the fields of Wakanda stretching out beyond that, and he gives himself a moment to center himself while Steve stands in silence next to him. When he’s ready, he nods at Steve and they proceed down the hallway to a room near the opposite end.

 

Steve punches in a five-digit code and the doors slides open in near silence. Bucky glances back at Steve but steps inside, and the doors whooshes closed as Steve comes in behind him.

 

Most of the rooms Bucky has been in have been luxurious in their accommodations, every comfort seeming to have been taken into consideration in their design. This room, by comparison, is almost sparse. One wall is entirely glass and the view is breathtaking, but other than that, there is a bed with a set of tables on either side, a pair of comfortable-looking chairs in the corner, and...that’s it. The walls are blank, and the door they’ve just come through blends in almost seamlessly. There’s sunlight pouring in from the wall of windows, but Bucky can’t see any other source of light in the room. It’s not an uncomfortable space, but it’s not what he would have expected based on what he’s learned of Wakanda and his people, and he turns back to Steve with some confusion.

 

Steve, for his part, looks slightly nervous now that there inside. Bucky is waiting for an explanation about just what is it they’re supposed to be doing now that there up here, but then Steve clears his throat and pulls a small device out of his pocket. A few taps on the screen and the room plunges into darkness, and Bucky’s pulse skyrockets until he takes a few breaths and reminds himself that he’s safe.

 

The wall of windows starts to glow, and slowly around them, images begin to take shape. At first, Bucky can’t quite make out what he’s looking at, but as he watches he can see a tree coming into focus, brilliantly lit with thousands of warm colored lights and surrounded by tall building. Red, gold, and silver flags flutter near its base; flurries of snow gently fall around it. Bucky steps closer; the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree is in front of him, so real that he could almost reach out and touch it. When he looks down, he can see the skating rink below them, skaters gliding beneath the gold statue. For a long moment he’s speechless as he takes it in. He can even hear the city around him, the hum of the traffic and the chatter of voices nearly breathless with excitement, the skates on the ice and the occasional rush of wind. It’s exactly as he remembers it, and that’s the most extraordinary  part of all - he _remembers_ . The memories don’t come back as a rush or a wave, but like they’ve been there all along, just waiting for him to open the door and let them out. It’s real, and it’s wonderful and devastating and so utterly _perfect_ all at the same time, and Bucky wants to say so but he doesn’t know how, so he just lets himself look.

 

For a long time they stand there staring at the tree together in silence, and then Steve clears his throat again.

 

“If I had been thinking about it,” he says, “I would have tried to get a picture of what it looked like when we were there, instead of what it looks like now.”

 

“Shut up, Steve,” Bucky replied. “It’s great.”

 

“Yeah?” Steve sounds hopeful. “You like it?”

 

“I do.”

 

“I thought maybe it would be too corny.”

 

Bucky shakes his head. “No. It’s...it’s really something, Stevie.”

 

“Yeah. It is, isn’t it?” Steve’s hand sneaks around his waist and comes to rest on his hip, and Bucky leans into the touch, allowing Steve to draw him closer in. This time, he allows himself to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder, feeling Steve’s thumb pressing lazy circles against the skin under the hem of his shirt.

 

“How long did it take you to set this up?” Bucky asks him.

 

“Couple of days.” Steve’s head is turned so his nose is resting in Bucky’s hair. “I didn’t really do much, if I’m being honest. I just told T’Challa what I was looking for and he helped me find the people to take care of the rest.”

 

“You went to the king of Wakanda to ask for a favor?” Bucky laughs softly. “You’re shameless, Rogers.”

 

“If you’re going to do it, might as well do it right.” Bucky can tell he’s grinning. “He even said they could adjust the room so that it actually felt like New York City in December, but I turned that down.” He pauses, then adds, “I figured you’d had enough of the cold for now.”

 

Bucky swallows, and his voice is softer when he says, “Yeah, I could definitely do without it.” Steve presses his lips to his temple in response, drawing him in just a little bit closer.

 

They stand like that for some time, before Bucky says, “Just promise me one thing, okay?”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Don’t ruin the moment by saying something cheesy like ‘Merry Christmas.’”

 

“Why would I do that?” Steve’s voice is completely serious. “It’s December 23rd, Buck.”

 

Bucky laughs again, and Steve joins him. Before them, and around them, the snow continues to fall, perfect flakes caught in the glow of the lights.


End file.
